Fate Rememberance: The Holy Grail War
by DirectorK13
Summary: In 2024 an old man, the last living survivor of the last Holy Grail War, takes four friends from Clock Tower on a journey while telling them about his experiences as a Master. Basically my take on Fate/Stay Night set in 1964 England instead of modern day Japan and my attempt to turn the FSN routes into a trilogy. Please read Author's Note in the Prologue before reading.


**Author's Note: Important! Please Read!**

As mentioned in the summary, this story is my take on the _Fate_ series set in England rather than Japan. What this means is that most of the human characters, mainly the Masters, that we're familiar with will be British instead of Japanese. To avoid confusion while reading, please refer to this name list before reading.

 **Shirou Emiya/Sherlock Emerson**

 **Rin Tohsaka/Rosamond O'Toole**

 **Issei Ryuudou/Isaac Ryan**

 **Taiga Fujimura/Tanya Fuller**

 **Kiritsugu Emiya/Kristopher Emmerson**

 **Kirei Kotomine/Keiran Konigsmann**

 **Souichirou Kuzuki/Solomon Kyles**

 **Ayako Mitsuzuri/Amanda Mitchell**

Sakura, Ilyasviel, and Shinji remain unchanged along with the Servants except for one as you will soon discover. If you're ever confused about a certain character please refer to this list. Other than that, please enjoy this story.

* * *

 **Prologue**

 _Clock Tower_

 _London, England_

 _January 29, 2024_

The great library of the famed mage's academy was one of the biggest and most elegant ever seen in London. Everywhere one looked books lined the shelves. Countless knowledge about the magus's world and the real world were contained in these books. But for the four young students who were doing a personal research project, they had not found anything they've been looking for.

"January 29th, five pm," the leader of group spoke into his audio recorder, "We're continuing our research about the fabled Holy Grail War, a fight to the death between Mages. Our investigation started last summer when we visited France to look at the mysterious little craters scientists even to this day cannot figure out what had caused them aside from a possible artillery strike. Now we are here inside the great library of Clock Tower trying to find any books, documents, or whatever about this mysterious war. So far... no success. Could it be that the Holy Grail War never happened? And that it's just something Mages made up just to brag about? The world may never know."

His friends started laughing the moment he turned the recorder off.

"You are so full of shit, Sam," George Bowers, a heavyset man with a thick beard and glasses, grinned.

"No kidding," Samuel Byrne snorted as he tossed the recorder away as though it offended him, "I sound like a bored history professor who's got nothing else to do."

"Really?" said Zack Weiss, the real smart guy of the group, "I was pretty interested in your lecture."

Sam threw a piece of bunched up paper at him.

"But what you say is right," stated Abigail Emerson, Sam's girlfriend and only female member of the team with long wavy red hair and lake blue eyes, "We haven't made much progress on our research of the war."

"Yeah, I know," Sam heaved a frustrated sigh, "Everywhere we've gone this past year has led to one dead end after another and when we started asking the teachers here they either don't know what we're talking about or flat out don't want to talk about it."

"Was the Grail War really that bad?" asked George.

"Provided that it actually happened," Zack reminded him.

"Well, yeah. But even so, why are people so reluctant to talk about it?"

"There's so much we don't know," Abigail shrugged, "Which is why we started this thing."

"And I think I'll end it for tonight," Sam checked his watch and stood up, "Come on, let's put these books back and go get dinner. There's nothing else for us to do but try again tomorrow."

* * *

 **After going out for dinner** , the group returned to their dormitory rooms in one of the many apartment complexes around Clock Tower. As Sam and Abigail went to their room, they noticed a carefully wrapped thin package lying in front of the door.

"What's this?" Sam picked it up and raised his eyebrows, "It's addressed to you, Abbie."

Abigail took it and her eyes went wide with surprise, "It's from Grandfather! That's odd, he doesn't usually send stuff to me."

"Maybe it's a new cooking book," Sam joked, "Perhaps he's worried that your cooking might kill me."

Abigail slapped him on the arm, "Shut up!" then she sighed as she felt around the package, "But... you could be right. My grandfather was always a good cook. You coming in?"

"Actually, no," Sam gestured behind him, "George wants to have a rematch so he could get his money back."

Abigail laughed, "Alright, go on then you big cheat."

Sam smiled and kissed her, "Don't know how long I'll be there, so don't wait up for me. Okay?"

"Sure," Abigail kissed him and went inside their room.

She placed the package on the table and went to the kitchen to heat up some tea. Coming back with a pair of scissors she sat and looked at the package, chuckling as she remembered fond memories of her grandfather. Snipping off the cords, she opened the package.

The next thing she knew she was running down to the apartment where her friends and boyfriend was, the item from the package clutched in her arms and the small note that had come with it.

When she burst through the door her boyfriend looked up at her in alarm, "Abbie? What's wrong?"

Without answering she rushed over to the table where the men were playing cards and placed the item down, "Take a look at this!"

The package was framed picture containing a black and white photo showing nine different people. In the front were five young people, two boys and three girls, who looked to around their age. In the middle was another girl with pale hair who couldn't have any more than eight.

"What the..." Sam couldn't understand what he was seeing, "Your grandfather sent you this?"

"Yeah," Abigail pointed to each figure, "The guy who has his arm around the little girl's shoulder, that's him. I've seen plenty of photos of him when he was young to know for certain. The woman beside him is my grandmother, and the other guy with the glasses is his best friend Isaac, who became a vicar. I have no idea who the other women are or who the little girl is. My grandfather must have known the little girl though since he has his arm around her shoulder. As for the other women, one looks a little bit like my great aunt Lilly, but…"

"She's Asian," said Zachary, "Japanese, I think."

"But who's the other woman?" said George, "And why is she dressed like a knight? In fact, who the hell are the other ones? And why do they look so weird?"

One of the young women wore armor and a sword at her side. It was very clear that she was some kind of knight from Medieval times. The other three were men and one was even stranger than the other. One was a behemoth of a man who couldn't have been human, one was dressed strangely with white hair and deeply tanned skin, and the last was dressed like a samurai with very long hair worn in a ponytail and a sword hanging from his back.

"Did it come with a note?" asked Sam.

"It did," Abigail handed it to him, "But it's just two words."

"' _CALL ME'_ ," Sam read out loud.

A long moment passed between as their eyes silently communicated with each other. There was no doubt of what they should do.

"Make the call, Abigail," ordered Sam.

Abigail nodded and reached into her pocket... then started laughing.

"I left my phone in our room," she said.

The tenseness shifted into laughter as Sam pulled handed her his own, "Here."

"Thankfully I know the number by heart," Abigail started dialing, "I'm going to put it on speaker but just let me talk to him. I don't want us to get too far ahead of ourselves and I don't want him to feel nervous."

Everyone nodded in agreement and waited with held breath as the phone starting ringing. Three rings later an old man's voice answered.

"Grandfather? It's me, Abigail."

"Ah, Abbie!" the man sounded relieved, "It's good to hear your voice again."

"You too, Grandfather," Abigail gave her friends a little smile, "How are you? Did I wake you up?"

"I'm doing just fine. In fact, I haven't even gone to bed yet. But that isn't why you called, isn't it? I assume you got that package I sent you?"

"Y-Yes, I got it," Abigail suddenly sounded nervous, "I recognized you, grandmother, and great uncle Isaac in the picture, but I don't know who the rest are or why you sent it to me."

"Oh, you don't, huh?" the old man sounded amused, "Let me refresh your memory. You and your friends are working on a little research project about the Holy Grail War, correct?"

All of them blinked in surprise.

"Uh… uh…." Abigail couldn't speak.

"You don't need to hide it from me, girl," the old man went on, "I know what you're doing at Clock Tower."

"H-How did you know?"

"The Headmaster told me about it."

Another pause.

"Um… okay," Abigail took a breath, "So what do you know about the war?"

"Well, my dear, I happen to be the very last living survivor of the last Holy Grail War, which by tomorrow will be sixty years ago."

All of them were now in a state of shock, Abigail especially.

"Grandfather… are you-"

"Abigail," this time his tone was serious, "would you and your friends be willing to come to Liverpool? I would very much like to tell you my story."

* * *

 **The next morning they were** on a bus en route to Liverpool. From London it would nearly be a five hour ride, giving them much time to talk and prepare when they arrive.

"What else can you tell us about your granddad?" asked Sam, his girlfriend sitting beside him.

"Nothing much," Abigail was looking over the photo, "I knew him and grandmother were mages at one point but I haven't seen him since my High School graduation and he's never talked much about the past. Neither did my grandmother, who passed away about five years ago. I do know that they traveled a lot together when they were younger. I have written to him a few times, but beyond that he's never spoken much to his family. I think grandmother's death was a major cause in that."

"You think this is legit?" asked George, "How do we know this isn't some old man's…"

He closed his mouth when Abigail gave him a dangerous look.

"My grandfather may have his secrets but he's never lied to any of children or grandchildren," she snapped.

"Take it easy, Abbie," said Zack, "no one is saying your granddad is crazy or anything."

"He does have point though," said Sam.

Abigail shook her head, "I just can't see how he would be playing a joke on us. Not with this photo."

"I agree," came Zack, "Abbie asked me take a close look at this picture last night since I know a few things about older photography and I can tell you straight up that it's neither fake or edited. It's a hundred percent real and original. It even has the date of when it was taken written on the back."

" _February 4th, 1964_ ," said Abigail.

Sam took a look at it, "I wonder who took this picture."

"Probably great uncle Isaac. He was really into photography before he became a priest."

"Well… whether your Granddad speaking the truth or not. I do want to hear what he has to say. This is the very first lead we've had since starting this project."

"I still don't understand why he had us pack a bunch of clothes," said George, "Especially outdoor ones."

"I think he intends to take on a journey while telling his story," said Abigail, "If he really was in the Holy Grail War, he definitely would have been traveling to places."

"Which would beneficial to our research," Sam nodded in delight, "Yes, that would be helpful."

Abigail nodded in agreement, then remembered something, "Actually… I don't know if this has anything to with this but… every year-in fact it's coming up in a few days-grandfather makes a special trip to up north, to Einzbern Castle if I remember right."

"Einzbern Castle?" ask Sam.

"It's a castle the Einzbern family built here in England a long time ago," explained George, "They were one oldest noble families of Germany. The castle caught fire and burned down… just about sixty years ago."

A moment passed between them.

"Any idea what caused it?"

"Investigators said that one of its basements caught fire and since it was way out in the country no one realized that it burned down until some time later. The cause was never discovered."

"It's always on the same day," Abigail went on, "February 7th."

"Three days after this picture was taken…" Sam whispered, "Do you how long he's been making that trip?"

Abigail shrugged, "Long as I can remember, probably before I was even born."

"Well…" Sam sighed, "either way, we'll know the answers soon enough."

But for Abigail, something didn't feel right.

* * *

 **It was just after noon** when they finally arrived in the historic city of Liverpool. After switching from a traveling bus to a rural one, the team got off at a bus stop in the Kirkdale district. From there they followed Abigail through the neighborhood of Victorian-era homes before stopping at the gate where an eight foot stone wall stood.

"This is it?" asked Sam.

"Hm-hmm," Abigail nodded, remembering the last time she was here, "Well, shall we go in?"

Her grandfather told her he would leave gate open when they arrived. Pushing it opened, they stepped inside to see a single story house, unusual compared to the Victorian style homes. Next to the house was another building that was big enough to be a garage yet there were no doors. To their right was an old and large shed that had seen better days but was still standing, nearly towering the wall. A large yard covered in snow separated the three buildings

"Pretty nice place," said Zack.

"Yeah," George agreed, "Real nice."

"Yes, it is," said Abigail as she approached the door. Taking a breath, she raised her hand and rang the doorbell. A long minute passed before she heard steady footsteps approaching. The lock clicked and the door swung open to reveal Sherlock Emerson, a tall old man in his eighties. He was clean shaven, with thick white hair and hazel eyes. He stood straight and erect, despite having a cane in his right hand. Abigail felt tears come to her eyes as she moved forward and hugged him tightly, "Hello, grandfather!"

"Abbie!" he spoke in a soft voice as her held her, "I'm glad to see you made it here safely. Let me look at you," he allowed her to step back and he look at her with proud smile, "You're as lovely as the last time I saw you."

Abigail laughed and kissed him on the cheek, "These are my friends, George, Zack, and this here is my boyfriend Samuel."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Emerson," said Sam after Sherlock shook hands with all of them, "Thank you for inviting us."

"Not at all," Sherlock grinned, "And you needn't be so nervous. I'm not about to chastise you for dating my granddaughter. Now, let's get inside before we freeze to death."

"Where's your housekeeper?" asked Abigail.

"I've sent her away for a short while," said Sherlock, "At least until I am finished with you."

"But are you alright, grandfather?" asked Abigail as they entered the living room, indicating to the cane.

"I'm fine," he assured, "It's only when the winter comes that my joints get rather stiff. You can set your bags here for the time being. I'll got you some hot drinks. Would you like to help, Abbie?"

"Sure!" Abigail followed him cheerfully into the kitchen.

The living room had wall sized windows that looked over the front yard, the old shed in plain sight. As George and Zack set down their bags Sam spotted a table that was filled side to side with pictures with more on the wall above. Stepping closer he started observing the pictures. They mostly consisted of Sherlock Emerson, his friends, and family as they lived through eight decades.

On the wall was a fairly large colored picture showing two women sitting in chairs and two men standing behind them with their hands on the women's shoulders. Both the men and the women matched the ones in the picture that was sent to them yet the ones here were older, mid to late twenties. Both women had long dark hair and the same lake blue eyes that Abigail had. They were undoubtedly sisters. One was dressed in red and the other in pink. A priest stood behind the woman in pink, a very handsome man with thick dark hair and glasses over his indigo blue eyes. The man behind the woman in red was definitely Sherlock Emerson for the hazel eyes were unmistakable. The picture also showed that his his youth his was fine specimen of a man and that his white hair had once been a vivid shade of copper red.

As he started to shift his gaze to another picture something suddenly caught his eye. Gong back to the couch, he took out the picture from Abigail's purse and compared it to the one on the wall. There, he noticed something very strange. The woman in pink wore the very same ribbon that the Japanese woman did in the photo. Comparing the two, they did look alike in some ways. As he tried to figure this strange thing Sherlock and his granddaughter returned carrying trays of hot tea.

"Sit down, everyone," Sherlock sat down and waited until everyone was seated and sipping their tea, "So, before I begin, did you bring everything that I asked you to? Winter clothes and such?"

"Yes, we did," said Sam, "Can I ask why?"

"Because I plan to take you on a journey. It won't be enough for me to simply tell you the story. No, it's better if I showed you as well by taking you to the places where the war took place."

"In the middle of winter?" Sam was a little shocked.

"Are you sure that's wise, Grandfather?" asked Abigail, "I know you're not exactly in the best of health right now-"

"I'm afraid it's much worse than that, me dear," Sherlock turned his gaze to her, his face serious, "I've just been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease."

The entire room froze and Abigail just only managed to prevent her cup from falling from her fingers.

" _A-Alzheimer's_?" she breathed, "Grandfather... are you..."

"Yes," Sherlock sighed heavily, "I'm slowly starting to lose my memory. When I told about my condition, I wondered if there was one more task to before I went. Then the Headmaster at Clock Tower told me of what you were doing and I saw the opportunity, which is why I brought you here."

"Grandfather..." tears started to form in her eyes.

Sherlock reached out and stroked her cheek, just like he used to when she was a child, "Please don't cry, child. You know how much it breaks my heart to see you thus," he turned his gaze to the men, "You want to know about the Holy Grail war? Well, I will tell you. Not just for you but in the loving memory of my wife, my best friend, and his wife. Together we fought to bring an end to those wars completely."

"Wait..." Abigail was now confused, "Are you talking Great Aunt Lilly? But that woman in the picture..."

Sherlock looked at her, "There's a great deal about your Great Aunt that you don't know about, Abigail. And I must warn you that the truth about her won't be suitable for your ears. I must ask you to be prepared when the time comes."

Finishing his tea, he sat his cup and stood. Everyone grabbed their notebooks and recorders while he made his way to the side of one couch and looked the windows toward the front yard. He took a few breaths and said, "It's been sixty years-"

"It's okay, Mr. Emerson," interrupted and eager Sam, "Just take your time. Remember everything you can."

Sherlock turned and gave him a stern look, "Do you want to hear this story or not, young man?"

"Uh..." Sam blushed while his friends chuckled, "Sorry, sir."

Sherlock gave him an amused look, "You should to be more patient, especially if you intend to marry my granddaughter."

George and Zack burst out laughing as both Sam and Abigail blushed furiously.

" _Grandfather_!"

"We're not... I mean..."

But Sherlock was no longer paying attention to them. His gaze had returned to the front yard, as though trying to remember everything he had experienced. The friends waited quietly as he stood there, the only sound to be heard was his breathing.

"It's been sixty years since that day," he began, "Sixty years since the last Grail War, and I can still remember every day, every minute, and every moment of it as though it was yesterday. The first thing you need to know about the Holy Grail Wars was that there was nothing noble or glorious about them. It was nothing more than a group of selected mages fighting for supremacy and the prize of a holy relic, an artifact said to create miracles and grant any wish. Or so they were told. In truth the wars only created misery, destruction, and death. Before our war there had been four previous ones, each occurring every thirty years staring in 1800. Our war, the last war, would begin much sooner than expected. Ten years after the last one. Unlike the previous wars... ours would be an effort to bring it entirely to an end. Sixty years since that day and there have no wars since."

With hand resting on the back of the couch, Sherlock Emerson lifted his cane and pointed out the window, "It all started right over there. In that old large shed you see..."


End file.
